Spark of Conceit
by OKami-hu
Summary: Megatron is not pleased by how his plans progress, and a trusty underling comes up with a possible  and quite radical  solution. The experiments provide a result which was somewhat unexpected.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I was browsing Wiki, and found these infos about a certain TF. Why was he so different from the rest? It never got explained, so I came up with my own theory.

* * *

"Are you sure about this...?"

Powertrip, despite his most menacing appearance and the Decepticon mark on his mighty chest, had never been anything to his chosen mate but a gentle, caring, protective lover. It was almost laughable. He was one of their best fighters, tall, strong, lethal, and loyal to a fault. His firepower almost rivaled Megatron's own, and albeit Powertrip wasn't the brightest mind ever, he was unquestionably a valuable addition to the rebel fraction. With his outstanding abilities, he became one of the pillars of the upcoming new order.

But right now, he was not a trusted general, not a warrior. He was a lover filled with doubt about what they were just about to try to accomplish. The act was considered an abomination by old Cybertronian rules and though Powertrip spat on the old law, this particular prohibition made sense to him. They were about to cross Primus himself.

His lover – Powertrip noticed, how much he changed since he became obsessed with this idea – snuggled closer, optics appearing slightly dim. "Stop worrying," he purred, and his voice had its unique effect on the taller mech. "We'll succeed."

Powertrip ran his hands down on his mate's back and he smiled faintly as the smaller, more slender form began to tremble from the touch. Some of the changes were… beneficial.

"Let's do it then."

* * *

Today appeared to be one of Megatron's bad ones – he was easily irritated, he grumbled a lot and was generally insufferable. Hadn't he been their brilliant and powerful leader, the soon-to-be Decepticons would have just left the citadel and had seen to their favorite past-time activities instead of building weaponry from scratch, stocking enegron cubes and planning the invasion of the city states.

Only Powertrip and Ego were brave enough to confront Megatron any time – the first being calm and rather durable and the latter utterly captivating. Ego, with his sleek body and remarkably skilled vocal circuits was the best information gatherer and interrogator. He didn't need to be brutal to his victims – he knew how to enchant them, and his delicate hands were quite convincing once they touched some unfortunate mech, as they were fitted with numerous little clever and merciless torturing devices. He knew where to touch, and his allure could even overpower the rebel leader at times.

"You seem to be troubled, Lord Megatron," he cooed, leaning over the chair's back the leader currently occupied. "You can tell us what disturbs you."

"Yes, my Lord," Powertrip nodded firmly. "If we can help, just say so, and we'll do everything you desire."

A fleeting smile passed Megatron's face – it pleased him to be called 'lord', and he also knew he could trust these mechs.

"Our progress does not satisfy me," he said finally, leaning back, and reaching up to gently cup Ego's face. The spy purred. "Our troops are still too small, and we cannot risk an early attack. We'll need to wait until more Sparks join our cause." He stood up and started to pace, stressing his words with a few elegant gestures. "We can obtain protoforms, and a Spark Mother is on our side, however, she's at her limits. Creation takes a lot out of her, so we can strike her out for a good while. Needless to say, this annoys me greatly. By… what's the word… 'breeding' our own warriors, who are infused with our ideals since their first second of existence is a great advantage, but without Sparks, we obviously cannot acquire such loyal followers – not that I'd want to lessen the value of the loyalty of others," he turned and nodded toward the other two.

"We could capture more Spark Mothers," Powertrip offered, with a hint of uncertainty, though – he knew well, that Spark Mothers were just as powerful as the rest of the mech society, and they were highly respected by all. Not to mention the delicate question of consent. When a Spark Mother refused to Create, there was no Spark.

"Or we could lure them here, win them over." Ego practically draped himself over the chair, in a pose just a touch more lewd than proper. "Perhaps even there's the possibility to obtain the Matrix… Or somebody holding it."

"You know that's nearly impossible." Megatron's voice was cool. "To obtain the power of the AllSpark, I'd need an army I do not have yet. And only the most outstanding leaders – you know, noble and generous and forgiving and possessing a load of other wonderful qualities – are given the ability to create life. Regrettably, though wholly understandably, I'm not one of them. Moreover, capturing such an individual would result in revealing our true goal. We cannot afford that, not yet."

"Then, I suppose," Ego squirmed like a techno-lizard, it was a miracle he didn't fall over "it is time for a little propaganda, not, my lord?"

"Quite right," Megatron agreed and he walked back to his chair. "I already have a few ideas, and you might prove to be quite useful in my plan, Ego." His fingers slipped to the spy's neck, stroking, stimulating the sensitive electronic layer, which surrounded every transformer's body. Ego moaned from delight, and Megatron's optics regarded his general. Everybody knew the vicious little interrogator and the merciless killing machine had a bond deeper than usual comradeship.

But Powertrip didn't move, didn't frown. In fact, he was smiling distantly, probably the sounds his lover was making delighted him. Megatron grinned. He'd have hated to destroy his capable general because of petty rivalry.

"Go now. I will call for you when the plans are finalized," The leader ran a thumb over the vocal module of Ego and stepped back, turning fully to Powertrip. "Send Shockwave and Illusion to me and tell Oceanborn to rest herself out properly. Anybody who dares to bother her, will have to face dire consequences. Then, you're free for the rest of the day."

The mechs saluted and left.


	2. Chapter 2

Powertrip was not a good guy. Certainly, he was very loyal to those few he loved or respected, but essentially, the love of destruction was in his nature. Once in the faraway past, he was the leader of a wrecking crew and his joy was still the greatest, when he could demolish something bigger than him.

Well, maybe that was the second greatest thing in his life. The very greatest thing was currently sprawled out on top of him, idly tracing meaningful patterns – letters of the Cybertronian writing – on his chestplate.

Ego started out as a researcher. He had been part of many exploration teams, but he was always given the most boring jobs. Others tended to overlook him, and few could tolerate his rather sarcastic nature. Eventually, he ended up in Megatron's growing army, and after a few modifications, he rose astonishingly quickly in the ranks. From scientist, he turned into a secret agent, spy, and torture master. Surprisingly, his sarcasm even tamed, and instead he became sly, smooth and in a certain way, quite wanton.

And still, there was no pretending in this dangerous mech when it came to the general Powertrip. The taller, stronger warrior gave him what Ego craved the most: undivided attention. Powertrip was as stable as the buildings he pulled down, he could stand Ego's whining, bitching and occasional angry outbursts. He just listened and then his strong arms pulled the slender spy closer, who could calm down in the secure embrace.

Both knew they could rely on the other, they completed each other. Their vibes were tuned on the same frequency and eventually, they became lovers. Ego loved how he had power over his larger mate – after all, he knew Powertrip's most sensitive spots, and with his torture devices, he could have inflicted horrible pain to the other. This thrilled the general. His energon pumps sped up every time he was laid out on the floor, Ego straddling him and grinning like a maniac.

But for now, the energy surge had passed, leaving them both pleasantly drained and satisfied. It was nice to just lie on top of the building they called home and enjoy each other's presence.

"You know," Ego broke the silence, "Megatron is right. We need a bigger army. Damn those Spark Mothers." He rolled off Powertrip to lie on his back and stared up at the starry sky. "Why can't others Create as well? Just them and the chosen leaders."

"It's what Primus said," Powertrip murmured, rolling on his side to admire Ego's lean form. "Everybody knows this. We live an awful long time compared to other races, so we don't need to procreate with the speed they do. And, Creating a Spark is a privilege."

"Yeah, yeah. But really, since when do we care for regulations, huh? And what does Spark Mothers do to earn that privilege? As soon as their Sparks inhabit a protoform, they simply assume their slightly special anatomy, and they are able to conceive new Sparks!" He sat up. "What keeps us from modifying one of us? It's not a miracle."

"That's an abomination, Ego," Powertrip sat up as well, and caressed his lover's face. "Primus forbade it, and those who tried were cast out by the Council. And it does sound weird…" he shivered. "It would be freaky to Create a Spark with somebody, who's not a Mother."

"Like you ever tried either," Ego pointed out sharply. "We have the technology. I bet this rule was set by some idiot in the past to prevent future rebel leaders to build their army." He tilted his head up, and his optics flashed. "I'll tell Megatron. He'll acquire his army."

"Mmh." Powertrip mulled over this, but he quickly lost interest. The light was bouncing off of Ego's polished shoulders too captivatingly. "How about some energon, and then... we could play. I can be your Thalorian slave."

A characteristic maniac grin appeared on Ego's face. "That sounds like some good entertainment."

* * *

Powertrip couldn't decide, which was scarier, the pleased astonishment on Megatron's face, or Ego's triumphant grin.

"Sometimes, the wickedness of your mind surprises me, Ego," the leader nodded. "Crossing Primus's law, and modifying regular mechs to be able to Create a new Spark... It's logical. The ancient prohibition was apparently so deeply etched into our central processors, that we never even considered this option. I have to give credit to you."

Ego's grin only widened, and he bowed respectfully. "Thank you, my leader. I'm glad I'm of use."

"The only problem is," Megatron mused, "That we don't know, what exactly makes the Spark Mothers so unique. During all the vast millions of years since our race came into being, the prohibition kept us from experimenting. However, we do have a Spark Mother..."

"Oceanborn doesn't have any problems showing off her Spark anyway," Ego chuckled, then hissed and glanced up at his mate, as Powertrip gently whacked him over the head. Megatron laughed.

"More respect, Ego. She is generous and easygoing, but she'll have no problems with ripping out your vocalizer, if something you say displeases her. Regardless of that, however, we'll start with the project. I hope head physician Scalpel will live up to my expectations."

"Most certainly," Ego nodded firmly. "I knew him from before, he is curious, and brilliant. That's why he's with us."

"Excellent." Megatron stood, and straightened. "I'll be informing them personally. And, we need to be sure, no word goes up about this plan; if the autobots learn what we're up to, they'll exile all of us, no doubt."

"I'll make sure that the secret is kept, my lord," Ego bowed and after a little hesitation, he added: "I'd like to volunteer for the testing." He didn't care about Powertrip's surprised hiss.

Megatron nodded slowly. "Acknowledged, and your bravery is noted. Be sure to keep in touch with Scalpel, then. You're useful, I would be displeased if you ended up incapacitated."

"We will not fail you, my lord."


	3. Chapter 3

And now, after so much time spent with experiments – the trial-and-error kind of process – Scalpel, and his dedicated team finally announced that the 'prototype' was ready for the 'test run'. However, there was a significant risk to it.

"We simply can't find out, how the energy circulates around a _femme_'s Spark", Scalpel said, wearily rubbing the bridge of his nose. The intense overload of his processor resulted in a faint, but disturbingly persistent headache. "Unless I literally vivisect Oceanborn, we cannot be certain, that this is the right way. We did what we could to imitate the original system, and without trying this out now, we'll never get any closer to the final solution. Ego, you must know this: you could end up deactivated permanently."

"But we have no other choice." The spy's voice was even softer, richer than usual. Everything in him changed, he carried himself differently, more elegantly. His movements, his speech became softer, and his emotion processing unit seemed to be overheating constantly; he was awfully emotional nowadays. At times, even Powertrip's legendary patience was worn thin by Ego's outbursts.

But on the other hand, as his inside was altered, the spy became more... responsive. He seemed to suddenly crave the Surge, he approached Powertrip any possible time, and he found new, creative ways to heighten the experience for both of them. Moreover, he sort of became obsessed with his own Spark. He exposed it to his mate without hesitation, and when Powertrip was too busy or exhausted to comply, Ego simply started to stimulate his own body shamelessly, until he achieved the Surge. Powertrip had to admit, that the sight was beautiful. It was difficult to withstand the allure of the trembling body, the soft, needy little noises Ego made, and the heat, which radiated from his overloaded insides.

It was amazing how sensitive his outer cover became. The slightest touch ignited sizzles in his nervous system and Powertrip couldn't deny, that he liked to exploit this new feature.

And now, here they were, kneeling in front of each other in a small room, monitored by the medics through screens and sensors – they didn't quite dare to force Powertrip to show off his own Spark to them. The general knew that he, too, was in danger – anything could go wrong, and with his very core so exposed, he was in a vulnerable position. But he was willing to take the risk.

They talked a lot, he and Ego. The spy became deeply involved into this project, on a surprisingly emotional way. Powertrip suspected, the changes somehow mixed up Ego's processors, because not even the Spark Mothers ever expressed a particular _desire_ to want to Create a new Spark. It was a privilege, an honor, and a necessity – a duty, first and foremost. A pleasurable duty, but the Creation served no other purpose than the survival of the race. Sparklings were taken care by tutors at a separate district, and no-one kept records on who Created them. It was not important. Yes, this experiment will create a special Spark, which will be unique, as it was the first one not conceived by a Spark Mother, but Powertrip failed to grasp why the resulting Sparkling should be treated unlike any other. Ego, however, was thinking about watching over the new one personally. It just sounded very disturbing and alarming. By now, all the general hoped for was to end this experiment, and get back his mate, as he had been.

Fingers slid over sensitive surfaces, tracing the layer of electric charge coating the bodies, ghosting over exposed wires. Tension rose inside, the strain on the servos caused fine glitches in the system; core temperature was rising as the energy built up. Ego was smiling, with an interesting edge, and his lean form trembled as his partner caressed him. Soon enough, the spy directed the strong fingers to his chest, encouraging the general to open the chest compartment and reveal the pulsing energy-orb inside. Powertrip obeyed, and for an astrosecond, he stared into the blue-white light as if mesmerized. He noticed how the armor plates covering his own hull slid aside, revealing his Spark and he moved closer with a soft, long growl, to grind his front to the other's. Sizzles ran through his nerves, pushing him closer to the glorious Surge, his internal system was wailing against the strain but it felt good, so good, Ego, _Ego_-

The spy's body suddenly jerked back and his vocalizer emitted a cry; blue lightnings ran over his frame and a thick tendril of energy shot out from his Spark, linking it with Powertrip's. The effect was overwhelming – almost all the sensors of both mechs' shut off immediately, their processors shrieked from the overload, it felt like an especially _nice_ way into permanent termination.

Powertrip's disoriented brain noticed, that there was rapid energy-drain, somewhere, but his optics were blinded, and his audio-sensors sorted off – he couldn't hear his mate's piercing shriek, not even when it reached a dangerous range, and the vibrations started to damage the delicate vocal circuits. He couldn't see Ego's optical crystals to shatter, or how his skilled fingers dug into the ground.

And when he did... it was already too late.

The feeling died off so suddenly, it nearly knocked him back physically. Now, he registered the sounds – Scalpel's team shouting orders, feet pounding the floor, and a painful wheezing right next to him. Powertrip forced his regeneration system to clear his vision, and looked at the trembling form on the floor.

Never before had he seen a body so horribly mangled, and not many even after the war broke out. Ego's hands were badly damaged, his once dangerous, delicate fingers broken and useless. His optics were gone, now hallow holes were seeping heavy drops of lubricant in the smooth face. His chest was open, the Spark chamber completely exposed, and the delicate inner workings were i melted /i , still gleaming bright red here and there. Powertrip, while his central processor managed to withhold his emotional reactions, noted, that the burn damage probably went as deep as the hydraulic and pneumatic skeleton, rendering the body beyond repair.

Ego's Spark, like a terrified turbofox cub, had shriveled into half its original size, and was gleaming weakly in its cage. However, above the broken form, a bright orb was hovering: a perfectly formed, new Spark.

He felt hands on his shoulders but Powertrip shook them off with a menacing growl, and leaned above his mate, taking the shattered hand into his own. Ego's body cringed and his once-beautiful voice drifted to the general now raspy and weak.

"Did I- Spark- make it-?"

"You did," Powertrip admitted. "It's a perfect Spark. We succeeded."

Ego's smile was weak, he obviously had to strain himself to display it. "Great... Now, our goals... Megatron."

"Spare your strength," Powertrip hushed him. He watched as the medics worked, frantically trying to stabilize Ego. One of them quickly captured the idly floating spark into a holding forcefield.

"Proud of me...?"

The general stared down. He felt a numbness creep up on his neuro-net, leaving freezing cold behind, and painfully echoing emptiness. "I am, love. Always were, always will be."

Three pairs of arms grabbed him from behind, but for a change, Powertrip didn't protest. His hand fell, and he watched in silence as Ego was hastily carried away. A young medic tried to catch his attention, and when he failed, he quickly ran a scan on the general. When the sensors didn't register anything too drastic, he tried again. "Powertrip, sir?"

The general stared at him. The medic cringed a bit. "Sir... take the Spark to the proto-shell. It's... It's your right. We'll do everything to save Ego."

Powertrip nodded slowly. He struggled to his feet and took the Spark. He had to finish this.

* * *

The room was dim, and the motionless mass of the empty protoform looked almost menacing on the berth, despite its relatively small size. Powertrip stepped closer and gently touched the forehead, yet void of a functional brain. He lifted the Spark and switched off the forcefield holding it.

"May your future be filled with stars" the general whispered, and let the energy-orb float into the opening on the protoform's chest.

The reaction was immediate – the body closed and stirred once, then a soft humming noise rose to fill the room. The Spark inhabited the shell, and was forming it rapidly, building up the necessary systems, draining basic knowledge from the AllSpark through the mysterious link, forging a brain and the core of the personality.

Powertrip's optics flickered off. Yes, this Sparkling will be a milestone, marking the beginning of a new era. An age, which indeed will be filled with stars...

... and screams.

end


End file.
